Theaters
by LSquared80
Summary: Several other times Ted and Peggy went to the movies.
1. Chapter 1

Theaters  
By Laura

i. The Graduate

_Benjamin: Look, maybe we could do something else together. Mrs. Robinson, would you like to go to a movie?_

She turns Abe down when he offers to bring dinner to the office and turns him down again when he asks Peggy to come by the paper. He says something about it being a new year and still the same as ever. She tells him she won't be too late and drops the receiver in its cradle with more force than required.

Peggy rifles through the papers on her desk. It's all about Heinz and tomatoes and condiments and she's close to never wanting to see the color red again. She glances at the phone when it rings and tucks her bottom lip under her teeth. It could be Abe, it could be Stan.

"Avoiding someone?"

Peggy looks up at Ted leaning against the doorway to her office. "Yes, actually," she admits.

He steps inside, folding his arms. His eyes scan the cluttered top of her desk. "Making any progress?"

"No, not at all," she tells him. "I've accomplished nothing since the last time you asked." Peggy hears the frustration in her voice, knows she is being cross. She takes a breath and folds her hands on her lap. "I've consumed my weight in ketchup and tomatoes this week but it's not inspiring me."

Ted chuckles and seats himself across from her desk. "Maybe you need to cleanse your palate with something different. Have you had dinner?"

"I'm not hungry," Peggy tells him. Her phone rings, and she wonders if it sounds as alarmingly loud to Ted as it does to her. She flinches and pushes her chair back. When it goes silent, she stands up and says, "I think I need a break."

"Coffee?" Ted asks.

Peggy shakes her head. "Movies always clear the cobwebs for me."

"Ah." He stands up. "Any particular kind of movie?"

"Good movies. Sometimes bad movies. So, I guess… no, not any particular kind." She picks up her purse and drapes her coat over her arm.

"For me it's flying," Ted says.

Peggy almost tells him that she's been wondering what it would be like to travel in his plane. Instead she asks, "Do you want to come with me? I'm dying to see The Graduate. It's supposed to be a very good film."

He looks down at his shoes. He glances at the clock on the wall.

"Oh, well, you know," Peggy stammers, embarrassed at the line she's crossed. "I guess it's kind of late. I should stay and work on this anyway."

"No," Ted tells her. "I'd like to see that."

x

The theater is crowded enough that Peggy and Ted can't find a seat that doesn't require whispering, "Excuse me, excuse me," and climbing over several pairs of feet. They settle in a row in the middle and switch seats when a tall, broad shouldered man sits in front of Peggy.

"Thanks," she whispers.

Ted offers her popcorn and when she takes a small handful, some if it spills onto his lap. She apologizes and he offers her more.

The theater darkens and the screen illuminates. They watch the movie in a state of discomfort – sitting stiffly in their seats, apologizing quietly several times for bumping elbows while trying to share the armrest and once when his knee knocks against hers.

During the finale, while Ben and Elaine's smiles fade after the euphoria of their escape, Peggy catches a glimpse of Ted looking at her. She glances back and he picks at a piece of popcorn on her shoulder. She smiles, shrugs – _how did that get there_?

As the end credits roll, Peggy and Ted are the first to rise from their seats and shuffle down the aisle. They walk far enough apart that another couple ends up between them, holdings hands and taking their time departing.

"Did that do the trick?" Ted asks once they exit the building, onto the street, out in the wide open space.

"I'll know once I get back to the office. Are you coming?"

Ted looks at his watch and says, "I should get home. But I'll walk you back."

"I'll be okay."

"I'll get you a cab," Ted says. He waits with her on the curb and asks, "So, do you think they end up staying together?"

Peggy's eyes knit closer together. She begins her response when Ted's signaling finally draws the attention of a taxi rolling by. It stops and she smiles when he opens the door for her. "I'll tell you tomorrow," she says. She climbs into the backseat. "Thanks for the company."

"It was my pleasure. Don't work too late, okay, Peggy?"

"I won't. Goodnight."

He says goodnight and closes the door. Peggy settles in her seat, unaware when the driver starts talking to her. She tries to get her mind back to Heinz but she finds herself searching for the answer to Ted's question. _So, do you think they end up staying together?_

ii. Planet of the Apes

_George Taylor: Imagine me needing someone. Back on Earth I never did. Oh, there were women. Lots of women. Lots of love-making but no love. You see, that was the kind of world we'd made. So I left, because there was no one to hold me there._

Peggy leaves her seat, taking her coat and purse, and goes to the lobby. Abe is late and he'll never find her if he shows up when the movie has already started. He'll come in and trip over people and step on their feet and curse. She's about to head back when she sees him run through the door.

"It's about to start," she scolds, reaching her hand out toward him.

Abe catches his breath. "I'm sorry, babe. I've got to get back to the paper."

She sighs. Peggy can't yell at him. It's usually her cancelling their plans. Ever since he left her at the ADDY Awards to tend to the Dr. King story he's been the one working late and bringing work home. "I understand," she says after a long beat.

Abe kisses her and says, "I'm real sorry." He's already heading toward the door when he yells, "You can tell me all about the movie in the morning."

Peggy looks back in the direction of the theater she fled. She considers leaving, or seeing something else, when she feels a tap on her shoulder. "Ted! What are you doing here?"

"The weather is too bad for flying, so I thought I'd give this a try," he says. "What did you see?"

"Nothing," Peggy says. "It's… it's a long story. I was going to see Cool Hand Luke. What about you?"

He shows her his ticket. "Planet of the Apes. Everyone seems to be talking about it. I guess you probably already saw it."

"No, not yet," she says.

He looks at his ticket, over her shoulder toward the doors, into the dark theater where he'll be sitting. "You should see it now."

Peggy looks off in the direction where Abe made his late arrival and hasty exit. "Alright, sure."

He follows her into the theater and it's not very crowded. He lets her choose the aisle and he sits on the end.

Peggy notices the way Ted sits – leaning toward the aisle, giving her the armrest. She notices the way he reacts to intense and exciting parts of the movie, how his jaw tenses and he jerks forward in his seat.

They remain in their seats long after the credits, long after the lights come up. "That leaves a lot to process," Ted says after a while.

Peggy can only nod her agreement.

"I think I need a drink," he laughs, and she does too, and they only get up when a young man walks down the aisle with a broom. "Well? Do you have time for a drink?"

Peggy thinks about the apartment she has to go back to by herself, the hammer and nails Abe has no doubt left in the middle of the floor. "Lead the way," she says.

iii. The Odd Couple

_Oscar Madison: You can't spend the rest of your life crying. It annoys people in the movies._

She needs to laugh. She can't talk about margarine anymore. Peggy can't avoid Don in the hallways of Sterling Cooper Draper Whatever much longer.

She waits for the elevator and hears the soft patter of a man's shoes coming around the corner. Ted joins her and says, "Middle of the day. I bet I know where you're going."

Peggy wrinkles her nose. "Sorry. I'm not trying to ditch work, I just-"

"It's alright, Peggy. It's been an overwhelming few weeks for all of us." The doors open and he lets her enter first. He presses the button for the lobby and says, "You go to the movies when you need to be inspired and when you need to blow off some steam. Can I ask which it is right now?"

She smiles. "A little of both, I guess."

"I need to wind down," he admits.

She doesn't know how much of Ted's more rigid demeanor around her has been due to their kiss or the merger, but she senses how stressed he has been. As they exit the elevator into the lobby and head toward the doors, she stops and says, "Why don't you come with me?"

x

The afternoon showing is sparsely populated. Ted's hand, his fingers pressing so lightly to her shoulder that she almost doesn't feel it, guides Peggy to sit on the right side, toward the front.

The lights dim and Ted leans toward her. "Did you want popcorn?" he asks.

She turns to answer him, putting their faces in close proximity, and she's able to smell the trace of mint on his breath. She is reminded of his mouth on hers and Peggy's tongue briefly licks along her bottom lip. She says yes only to put some distance between them.

Ted darts away quickly and returns with one bucket of popcorn. He holds it on his lap and Peggy has to drape her arm over the armrest, reaching across every time she wants some. She finds herself eating over half the bucket.

When Ted laughs, the sound is new and striking and she's glad the movie has so many funny parts. There are moments he looks over at her and they share the laughter.

Toward the end, he sets the popcorn bucket on the empty seat beside him. He rests his arm on the small slant of space Peggy has left open, pressing his arm against hers. The sides of their hands touch and it sends a jolt right to Peggy's core. She holds her breath when Ted's pinky finger crosses over hers and he traces a line across her knuckles. Something makes the audience erupt in laughter but Peggy and Ted are silent, staring blankly at the screen.

She feels the light touch of his hand everywhere. Peggy's toes curl inside her shoes. Her lips tingle. She is dizzy. She misses the last fifteen minutes of the movie and when the lights slowly come back, she has to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye before it can draw a line down her cheek.

iv. Rosemary's Baby (_the first time_)

_Rosemary Woodhouse: This is no dream! This is really happening!_

Peggy is excited about Ocean Spray, about the trip she'll get to take in Ted's plane. She's trying not to think about it too much. If she lets it play in her head for too long, imagining too many different scenarios, it will only be that much difficult to remain professional and neutral in his company.

"I'm going to the movies," she tells Phyllis on her way out. "Have a good night!"

She noticed Ted was lingering near her office and she hears him follow down the hall. It's not until he calls her name that she stops. "What movie are you seeing?" he asks.

"Rosemary's Baby."

"Who are you going with?"

Her lips part.

He apologizes. "It's none of my business. I just meant, it seems like a scary movie to see alone. If you were seeing it alone."

"Well, I am," Peggy admits quietly. "But I think I'll be okay."

He leans close to her, lowering his voice. "I'm not ashamed to say that I haven't seen it yet because I'd be too scared to see it alone."

x

They have no choice but to sit near the wall, close to the front, in a spot that seems to be the only two seats left in the theater. The man next to Peggy hogs the armrest and sits too close; she tilts toward Ted to avoid the stranger beside her.

Halfway through, Ted moves his arm and Peggy worries she was leaning against him too much. But she feels his arm slide across the back of her seat, settling around her shoulders, and she's grateful for the warm comfort; what's happening on the screen disturbs her, stirs memories, and at times, makes her skin crawl. The sturdy clutch of his arm, his fingers absently rubbing circles over the sleeve of her dress, relaxes Peggy.

The movie ends and they don't move. Hardly anyone in the theater moves. They blend into the crowd of people remaining in their seats, a little shell-shocked. They stay that way, Peggy nestled against his side, until the rows around them have emptied out.

Ted cranes his neck to see behind them. As he turns back, he brushes a soft kiss to Peggy's temple before standing from his seat. He holds her hand as they step over candy bar wrappers and discarded paper cups, up the main aisle. They let go of each other when they the exit out the main door onto the crowded sidewalk. The noise is disorienting after remaining in the dead-silent theater for so long.

Without a word they join the hoards of people walking down the street, their hands brushing every so often.

v. The Thomas Crown Affair

_Thomas Crown: Do you play?  
Vicki Anderson: Try me._

She doesn't ask him to go and he doesn't ask if she wants company. It's the middle of the day and the movie has been out for a while and Peggy professes loudly after a meeting that she wants to see it.

Ted steps onto the elevator just as the doors are about to seal shut. They ride down in silence and anyone who spies them in the lobby won't guess they are heading for the same destination. She hails a cab a block away and Ted climbs into the backseat with her.

He buys the tickets and follows Peggy into the theater. It's empty and they sit in the last row in the back. Two minutes before the lights go down another couple enters and sits closer to the front, and after the movie has started a man takes a seat on the opposite side of the theater.

The lights dim to dark and the music plays. It's like a cue – Ted reaches his arm around Peggy's shoulders, drawing her against him as she sinks lower in the seat. She rests her hand on his thigh.

They always watch the movie. This one is no exception. It's clever, sexy, cathartic. But when Steve McQueen kisses Faye Dunaway, when the camera begins to spin around them as they seize one another with a frenzied passion, Peggy loses interest in what's happening on the screen.

Ted shifts in his seat and his fingers slip under the sleeve of her dress, warm against her bare skin. She feels him tense beneath her palm and she slides her hand upward, causing Ted to buck his hips. Peggy looks at him; his eyes are closed, his lips parted. She turns sideways in her seat and sits up enough to surprise him with a kiss.

The kiss builds until Ted is trying to pull Peggy onto his lap, hindered by the armrest between them, by the possibility they are being watched. He grips her hand and stands up, pulling her with him down the aisle and out the door.

They stumble out into the hall and Peggy leans her ear against the door to the next theater. She pushes the door open and it's dark and empty. She draws Ted in and leans against the wall, guiding his hands to her hips. She knows it won't be long before logic takes over; he'll hold her and quietly suggest they get back to the office before they get carried away, so Peggy slides her hands beneath his suit jacket and clutches his belt.

Ted's lips are warm and teasing along her neck. She moans and tips her forehead against his shoulder when his hands slide beneath her dress, stroking her through the binding layers of nylon and cotton.

"We won't know how it ends," Ted whispers gruffly.

Peggy reaches up to frame his face with her hands. "We'll have to see it again," she says before pulling him toward her, capturing his lips in a dizzying kiss as the sound of the movie they abandoned thrums against the wall.


	2. Chapter 2

There wasn't going to be a second part to this, but I had so much fun writing it and appreciated everyone's comments that I couldn't wait to research more of the movies that were out at this time. Thanks for reading!

Theaters  
By Laura

**Part 2**

**i. Romeo and Juliet **

_Juliet: Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say good night till it be morrow._

Ted had been excited about Shakespeare. Seeing the movie was something they talked about before they lost Ocean Spray, before the St. Joseph's pitch went sour, before Peggy walked into the conference room and found Don waiting to pounce.

Its opening night and Peggy feels silly for buying a ticket to see it alone. The theater is full of teenage girls and couples. She picks at the edge of her ticket stub, fraying the paper. The lights dim. She gets up from her seat and collides with a man. Peggy blinks and her eyes adjust. "Ted."

"Are you leaving?" he asks.

Peggy sets her purse and coat back on the seat. "No. I mean… I didn't expect to see you."

The screen flickers with color and sound. Someone in the aisle behind them clears his throat and Peggy reclaims her spot. Ted sits beside her and whispers, "We made plans, didn't we?"

Peggy smiles and faces the screen. Her posture is rigid, mirroring Ted's. They work hard not to sit too close, not to touch one another – accidentally or on purpose.

Before the debacle with St. Joseph's, Peggy had a ridiculous notion in her head about what it would be like seeing the movie with Ted. It would be romantic and scholarly and she would lean against him to whisper _What did he say _or _What does that mean_ and afterward Ted would speak to her about the poetry of the language.

Peggy finds she doesn't need to ask; she feels the emotion of every word, understands the ecstasy and tragedy of every caress and kiss.

The movie ends and leaves bleary-eyed girls and women in its wake. Ted and Peggy remain seated through the credits, during the procession of couples clutching hands as they depart. He stands and steps out into the aisle, picking up Peggy's coat, holding it open for her.

She slides her arms into the sleeves and feels the brief brush of his fingers on her shoulders. She turns around and tries to formulate some kind of intellectual statement on the adaptation of the original but is cut off when Ted says, "I don't think we should do this again."

It was inevitable but Peggy can't hide the sadness and disappointment that washes over her. "Oh," she whispers. She bites down on her tongue, a futile attempt to pre-empt the tears that gloss her eyes.

"Or for a while, at least," Ted amends. He extends his hand toward her and draws it back.

"Okay," Peggy agrees in a strained whisper, "that's a good idea."

Ted sits down in the seat on the end of the next aisle.

"Ted?"

He looks straight ahead. "I'm going to stay a minute."

She looks at his hands propped on his thighs – two clenched fists, white knuckles. Peggy knows what will happen if they leave together and she nods her understanding. She buttons her coat and takes a step forward, stopping at the side of Ted's chair. Peggy folds her hand over his shoulder and bends to press a tender, lingering kiss to his temple before she walks on shaky legs toward the exit.

**ii. Sweet Charity **

_Vittorio: Without love, life would have no purpose._

It's Saturday afternoon and Peggy is supposed to have lunch with her mother and Anita, but she buys a ticket for Sweet Charity and parks herself in the middle of the theater. She's avoiding a conversation and sitting through a movie is the perfect diversion.

How will she tell her mother about Ted? Will she start with the fact that he is one of her bosses, or the fact that he was her married boss and is now her soon-to-be-divorced boss? Will she talk about the torturous months of doing the right thing (all those movies she has seen recently by herself, or with someone who was a poor stand-in)? She will most certainly not mention last night.

Peggy stares at the middle of the screen until the images begin to blur and the music fades to background noise. She touches her fingers to her mouth and thinks about the previous night. If she couldn't still feel the pressure of Ted's mouth and the warm slide of his tongue she would think it had been a dream, or something she saw on television right before she fell asleep.

_He sat beside her on the bed, his hands around her face, moving down to her shoulders, stroking her breasts. All the while his mouth tasted her, teased her. _

Peggy slouches in her seat and stretches her legs. The music starts to grate and she closes her eyes.

_Ted stretched across her body, settling between her legs. He brushed an errant strand of hair away from her eyes and kissed the bridge of her nose, the corner of her mouth, her chin. _

She glances at the empty seats on either side of her. It strikes Peggy as unfortunate that she and Ted can finally see a movie together without guilt and without hiding and she's alone in the theater, but she feels him everywhere.

_Every thrust of his hips earned a soft moan from Peggy, and she was pleased to discover how Ted's breathing changed when her fingernails scratched up the length of his back. _

The end credits roll and Peggy abruptly sits straight, glancing from side to side. She paid to sit in a dark theater and reminisce about the night before and she doesn't regret it. She'll see the movie again with Ted and maybe she'll watch it then.

Maybe she won't.

**iii. The Love Bug**

_Jim Douglas: Without a real car, I'm only half a man._

Three months of waking up in the same bed most mornings. Three months of romantic dinners and weekend trips in Ted's plane. Peggy often feels guilty for all of it, knowing how Ted's sons have struggled to find their place in their father's new world. It's the reason Peggy was agreeable when Ted asked her to meet him and Thomas at the movies.

She arrives early and buys a box of Gummy Bears to stash in her purse so that if Ted refuses to buy candy she can sneak them out. Peggy paces in front of the concession stand. She sits on a bench, tapping her foot on the carpet. When she sees Ted enter, holding the hand of his youngest son, she bolts in the direction of the restroom and hides behind a pillar.

Peggy watches them, a hand covering her mouth. Ted scans the lobby, his face taut with worry. She watches Thomas get antsy, tugging on his father's hand and running in circles around him. He stops and almost loses his balance, grabbing a handful of Ted's shirt to keep from tipping over. Peggy smiles behind her hand. She knew it would be awkward, and she told Ted it wouldn't be easy for her – but she didn't tell him all the reasons why. Not yet.

From across the room Peggy can see Ted heave a disappointed sigh. He ruffles Thomas' mop of blonde hair and leads him toward the theater.

Peggy smoothes a hand down the front of her shirt, centers the silver pendant of her necklace. She jogs out from behind her hiding spot, calling out, "Ted, wait!"

Ted turns around, a grateful smile spreading across his face. He clutches Thomas' hand and the boy sticks close to his father's side. "I didn't see you," Ted tells her.

"I had to use the restroom," she says.

Ted asks Thomas if he remembers Peggy and the boy narrows his eyes, shrugs and then says, "Hi, Peggy."

"Peggy is going to see the movie with us," Ted reminds him.

"Is that okay?" Peggy asks. She reaches into her purse, touching the box of candy to use as a bargaining chip if necessary.

Thomas glances up at his father and Ted smiles. "I think so," Thomas says.

Ted lets the boy lead the way into the theater. He reaches behind him, stretching out his fingers until Peggy grasps his hand.

**iv. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid**

_Butch Cassidy: Are you crazy? The fall will probably kill you._

The weather is keeping them from flying out of Philadelphia. Ted reserves the rental car for a few more hours – enough time to drive to the nearest theater and catch a late showing of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

Peggy spends the one hundred-ten minute run time with her head on Ted's shoulder, her hand on his thigh. She increases the pressure of her fingers now and then, slides her hand upward. She tests him, surprised by Ted's resistance. He is enamored with the movie, leaning forward in his seat and biting his bottom lip. He squeezes Peggy's hand when she brushes kisses along his jaw and nips at his ear but never takes his eyes off the screen.

The credits roll and Ted is glued in place. Peggy is the first in the theater to rise and put her coat on. She says, "Well, that was good."

"It was fantastic," Ted enthuses. He is jarred by the ending, looking stricken and thoughtful.

Peggy glances at the door, waiting. She climbs over his feet to get to the aisle. She starts walking and hears Ted catch up behind her. He drapes his arm around her shoulders and kisses the top of her head. "You didn't like it?"

"No, I did," Peggy insists.

They exit onto the sidewalk and stop under the awning. Thick raindrops pound the pavement. Ted removes his coat and holds it above both their heads. "Let's go!" he shouts over the rain and the two of them charge out into the heavy sheets, the shield of his coat doing little to keep them dry.

Ted opens the door for Peggy and she removes her coat so the water won't soak all the way through to her mostly dry clothes. She tosses it in the backseat as Ted gets in the driver's side. He starts the engine and maneuvers onto the road, but the rain is so heavy and the windshield wipers so weak that he can barely see in front of him. He pulls over and says, "I think we need to wait it out."

Peggy shivers and folds her arms.

"You must be freezing." Ted scoots across the seat and draws Peggy against his side. "I don't think I believe you when you say you liked the movie."

"I did. I love Paul Newman. And Robert Redford. Westerns make me think of my father. It was entertaining."

"But…?"

Peggy laughs quietly, shaking her head. "Nothing. It's nothing."

"Peggy," he sighs, angling toward her, resting his free hand on her knee. His fingers play with the hem of her skirt. "Do you think I didn't notice what you were doing? Because I did." He slides his hand along the inside of her thigh, tracing the seam of her nylons. "There was an older couple three seats away. It took everything in me not to react." He presses between her legs, drawing a gasp from her open mouth. "But they're not _here_," Ted says as he bends to kiss her.

She squeezes her thighs together around his hand. She revels in the kiss, in the wild way Ted possesses her mouth. She grunts when he moves his hand and leans back.

Ted's fingers lovingly trace a line along Peggy's jaw, but there is nothing gentle about the way he unclasps the buttons on her shirt – he releases the first one and then grips both sides of the silk, yanking until the buttons pop. He pushes the fabric away from her shoulders and down her arms. Ted reaches between Peggy and the seat to unhook the clasp of her bra.

Whatever trace of cold she felt is chased away by the heat of his eyes and his body. She arches her back when Ted leans down and his tongue lashes across one nipple and then the other, the pressure causing her to bite her lip. Peggy's fingers rake through his hair, clutching the short strands, holding him where she wants his attention to stay.

Her eyes pop open when Ted shoves her skirt up around her hips. He moves to the edge of the seat and reaches under the waist of her skirt to roll her nylons down, eventually shredding the material to rid her of them. He rubs her through the cotton of her underwear and Peggy tilts her head back, stifling a moan. She bucks her hips, silently pleading to feel his skin on hers and when Ted finally slips his fingers beneath the material Peggy lets loose a loud, satisfied whimper.

She catches her breath and holds her hand against his stomach, urging him to sit back. Peggy climbs onto his lap, her skirt bunched around her waist, her thighs locking tight around him. In comparison to Ted's quick discard of her shirt, she moves torturously slow to undo the buttons, push the shirt down his arms. She removes the T-shirt underneath just as slowly, her fingernails scratching up his ribcage as she does.

"Peggy," he whispers coarsely, diving toward her lips, seeking the heat of her mouth. She stops him – pressing her fingers to his lips. She grinds against him and leans forward, urging his mouth to her breast. She finds his hands and pins them to the seat.

The rain beats furiously against the windows and thunder rattles the entire vehicle. Peggy works quickly to unbuckle Ted's belt and do what she can to remove the barrier of his clothes in the confines of the car.

**v. Love Story**

_Oliver Barrett: See, I think you're scared. You put up a big glass wall to keep from getting hurt. But it also keeps you from getting touched._

She waits in Ted's office and sits behind his desk. Peggy picks up a recent photograph of him with his sons. She hasn't seen the boys very much, and when she does she feels like an intruder. There's a difference between being in the office with Ted (or on a business trip or stealing a few hours alone in her apartment) and trying to find her place in his life as a divorced father.

He shows up at the door and fills the space with the scent of his cologne. Ted is smiling and a little nervous, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He helps Peggy with her coat and they run into Joan at the elevator.

"Big plans for this evening?" she asks.

"We're going to the movies," Ted tells her.

x

Ted thinks it's odd how long it's taken them to see it. All the girls around the office have been talking about Oliver and Jenny for weeks. Every time he suggested it, Peggy picked something else.

The theater is sparsely populated and Peggy can tell a woman a few rows behind them has already seen the movie; she cries before the opening credits and says between sniffles to her friend that it's both the greatest and the saddest love story she's ever seen.

Ted reaches under the armrest to hold her hand, their fingers entwined. Peggy notices him glancing at her during the movie's tragic conclusion, probably checking to see if he needs to her offer a tissue. She's not crying.

"Ready?" Peggy asks as the final piece of music plays and she starts to gather her purse and coat.

Ted nods. He turns to the empty seat beside him to collect his coat and a box of candy he never opened. He stands and Peggy is already in the aisle, buttoning her coat.

Outside, the evening bites at them with a bitter cold and the walk to his car seems daunting. "I forgot my gloves," Peggy says.

Ted stops on the sidewalk and lifts both her hands to his face, cupping them around his mouth, blowing warm air onto her palms. He presses both of her hands to his chest, under the warm wool of his coat. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine. What do you mean? I'm fine."

His breath billows out into the space between them while he searches for the right words. "You've been quiet lately," he says.

Peggy squints. "I don't know. I guess I've just been focused on work."

"Did I upset you?"

"No, why… no." Peggy shivers and says, "It's very cold, Ted. Can't we talk in the car?"

She makes a move to turn and walk, but Ted holds her still. He thought a movie called Love Story would create a romantic mood, or at least offer an excuse for the two of them to enjoy each other's company and be grateful for it. Now he wonders if such a sad story is having the opposite effect, and his mind begins to race as he worries Peggy's distance is more than simply being distracted by work.

"Let's talk here," Ted responds firmly. He lets go of her and Peggy shoves her hands deep in the pockets of her coat.

Her teeth chatter and she looks up at the dark sky. There is an ominous gray sheen to the darkness, predicting snow and more cold. "I just want to go home," she tells him.

"And I want to understand what you're thinking, Peggy. I can tell something is bothering you."

She didn't cry during the movie. Her eyes never even welled with tears. But standing outside the theater, clenching her teeth, her coat a flimsy barrier to the chill – Peggy blinks and hot tears streak down her face and over her lips.

Ted reaches out, clasping his hands around her face. "Peggy, please. Talk to me."

She holds onto the lapels of his coat. "There are things you don't know about me," she says quietly.

They both feel the cold prick of snowflakes on their faces but don't look away from each other.

"Of course there are," Ted says.

The matter-of-fact tone to his voice makes Peggy laugh; he is so certain, so relaxed.

She doesn't know how to start the conversation – how to explain all the ways she feels out of place, how she worries about what he'll think of the parts of her she keeps buried, how she fears losing him when he does know.

"Peggy, I love you," Ted tells her. He tilts her head back so she'll stop looking down at their shoes and meet his eyes. A fresh wave of tears drip down her cheeks, between Ted's fingers. He wipes his thumbs under her eyes. He suddenly can't understand how little he's spoken those words to her after months and months of showing her (and everyone else) how he feels.

She curls her fingers around his wrists. "I love you, too," she whispers.

They embrace under the murky glow of the streetlamps, the snow dusting their shoulders and the tops of their heads. "Let's get you to the car," Ted says, but Peggy doesn't feel so cold anymore and she tugs him toward her, claiming his mouth in a torrid kiss.


End file.
